


Only A Moment

by doctorivory



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Multi, Pairings mainly just implied, Present Tense, spoilers for the finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorivory/pseuds/doctorivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He says goodbye to every single person except the one that he loses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only A Moment

Barry’s brain moves faster than any other living being can comprehend. In the instant it takes a normal human brain to form a single thought, he has thousands. Most days it’s beneficial, he can come up with hundreds of plans in the blink of an eye to take down the villain of the week or to save the as many people as possible (choosing the right plan, on the other hand, is a bit harder).

Today is not one of those days.

When Barry says goodbye to Iris he knows he is leaving her in good hands. He knows she’ll be happy with Eddie, even if he won’t be there to see it. When he steps back and locks eyes with the detective, he pauses. There was  _so_  much he could say to the man, who he had gone back and forth between treating like a friend and treating like the annoying high school boyfriend of his crush. But in that moment, what was there to say?

He could say sorry for the way he treated him, tell him how much he valued the friendship they built, the trust that he had been given even when Barry had done nothing to actually  _earn_  it. He could say he was happy the man was getting his happy ending, tell him to take care of Iris and Joe and to let  _Iris_  take care of  _him_ as well.

Instead he just nods.

Eddie nods back.

A thousand things are left unsaid between them, but Barry turns away before he can dwell on it. Maybe, in the new timeline, he could go and buy the man a drink or something, a show of support that he was always given but so rarely returned. He makes a promise to himself to do just that.

Then everything changes.

He lets his mother die. He has too, he  _knows_ , he’s always known. His future self only confirms the gut feeling he has that this is all too good to be true. Instead, he holds her as she dies, reassures her, and for the first time since he got his speed, allows himself to mourn. He’s cried a million times before over her, in the dead of night, to Iris, to Joe, but for the first time, he feels  _lighter_  afterwards.

Barry rushes back- through the speed force, through the time stream- to the people he left behind. Every goodbye, every good thing he thought he was going to lose, is still there. He gets to  _keep it_.

He thinks of Iris as he runs- his thoughts always stray to Iris when given too much time by himself- who chose Eddie in the end. Some part of him is upset, knowing that he may have lost his chance to be with Iris.

There’s another part of him- a quieter part- that remembers that he promised himself he would buy Eddie a drink when he saw him next.  It’s hopeful, almost gleeful at the prospective future.

Most of him is consumed with anger. He is angry that he’d almost been tricked, angry that he almost threw away his entire  _wonderful_  life for a half of a chance. He crashes through the wormhole and knocks Eobard out of his time machine with a satisfying punch to the face.

Everything quickly falls to pieces as they fight and before even  _Barry_  can process it there’s a bang. Eobard drops him on the ground and Barry is left reeling in shock, wondering where the shot came from. It takes him less than a second to realize that there was a stain growing on Eddie’s shirt and the world stutters to a halt.

He watches as Eddie falls and as Iris runs to him. He watches as the life bleeds out of the man. He watches as every hope and dream of the future that Iris has breaks apart right in front of her. He watches as that little glimmer of hope that had begun to blossom in his chest gets snuffed out in an instant. He’s the fastest man alive and he can’t move a single muscle.

Barry’s brain thinks faster than any other living being on earth, even faster than some computers, and he can  _move_  almost as fast. But even with every single attosecond at his disposal, there isn’t a single one he used to thank Eddie, to tell him how much he meant to him, to tell him how much he  _could_  have meant to him, to tell him  _goodbye_.

He says goodbye to every single person except the one that he loses.


End file.
